Alpha Guard - Chapter Three
A sci-fi thriller novel, most easily described as Jack Reacher in space.
Hello alpha-readers, welcome to chapter three of Alpha Guard!
If this is your first time visiting, here’s a quick rundown of what’s what…
My name is Samuel George London and I’m a writer from Hampshire in the UK. Usually, I write comic books, but this is my first novel. And just so my fellow Brits know, I’m writing in American-English because the main character is originally from the US.
Alpha Guard is a sci-fi thriller novel, most easily described as Jack Reacher in space, but the short synopsis is as follows:
Even after 300-years of colonization, Mars is still a tough place to live - unless you can afford to live in Dome One. However, when the wealthy need to visit out-of-dome, they hire bodyguards known as ‘bugs’ to protect them. Alpha Guard is the best bug on the Red Planet, and when he's hired to escort a VIP around Mars, his skills are tested to the absolute limit.
So, in a nutshell, if you like books by Lee Child, Andy Weir, Mark Greaney and Blake Crouch you will (probably) enjoy reading or listening to this story. And if you haven’t read or listened to chapter one yet, you can do so by clicking here.
I’ll be publishing Alpha Guard on a monthly basis, chapter by chapter, right here for free. So, please be sure to subscribe to stay notified when new chapters are posted.
I’ll never put a paywall on chapter posts, but if you’d like to, there is an opportunity to upgrade to paid. However, it’s only to fuel my caffeine habit. So, please only part with your hard earned cash, if you can afford it.
There is an audio version of this post available, but to give you a heads up, the chapter reading is by an AI voiceover via ElevenLabs. However, when I eventually publish Alpha Guard as a polished novel, I will be hiring a human to read the audiobook.
If you prefer to listen rather than read, Alpha Guard is also available on iTunes, Spotify, Amazon Music, Audible or wherever you usually download your podcasts.
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Happy reading and please let me know what you think in the comments.
Ciao for now,
SGL
“How’s it lookin’?” Eric asked in my earpiece.
Through the cameras on my mech-suit, he saw everything I could. So really, he almost had as much sensory input as I did. Ultimately though, Eric only trusted boots on the ground. He’d always tell me, “if no one’s there, it ain’t real”. To be honest, I could take it or leave it, but I did respect his old school nature.
Answering his question, I reported, “All clear. Now entering The Diamond.” I couldn’t believe I was here again so soon. But that’s the life of a bug. Eat, protect, sleep, repeat.
I marched up to the front desk with the usual passersby gawking at my hulking frame. The single human receptionist was talking to someone on her headset. So one of the multiple android receptionists started speaking to me, “Welcome to Andras Corp. How can I help?”
Staring at the blue light in the middle of its face, I replied, “I’m here to pick up Amrita Andras.” As the words left the speakers of my mech-suit, a herd of reporters stampeded toward me from the other side of the lobby. My HUD went into overdrive identifying them all, but they all checked out as bonafide journalists.
A few moments later the human receptionist ended her call and said, “Apologies, Alpha Guard. Please follow me.” Taking her time behind the front desk, she strolled toward the building's entrance gates. Following her on the public side of the desk, I had to barge through the reporters, while they shouted questions at me.
“Alpha Guard, do you support Andras Corp’s outreach program?”
“What do you think is causing the recent surge in teenage deaths?”
“How would you improve the pods?”
Eric chimed in, “Don’t say a word.”
Ensuring that none of the reporters discovered what was really going through my mind, I replied by text, “No shit, Sherlock. These people are vultures.”
At the gates were two bulky security guards wearing tight fitting black suits with black shirts, black ties and black shoes. I guess it was an attempt at showing they meant business. But I didn’t hold it against them. They were probably ordered by some line manager to wear all black.
While the security guards held back the reporters, the receptionist opened up the disabled access gate for me to walk through. Round the corner and out of sight, she pressed the up button for the elevators. Thirty seconds later the doors opened and she gestured me inside. I stepped in and turned around. Waiting for some more guidance, I audibly coughed. The receptionist came to her senses and said, “Floor thirteen. Ms. Andras is on floor thirteen.”
“My lucky number,” I replied. She smiled and wandered off, probably returning to the front desk.
The fingers on my mech-suit were too big for the buttons, so I had to use the sharp-ended handle from my taser-stick. The doors closed, and seconds later opened on floor thirteen with a short woman welcoming me. Just over five-feet, she was definitely an Earthling. In a posh English accent she said, “Nice to meet you, Alpha Guard. My name is Camila. I’m Ms. Andras’ personal assistant. She’s waiting for you in conference room A.”
“Do yer dinger! When’s this job gonna get goin’?” Eric exclaimed in my ear. It was rare for him to lose patience like that. And even rarer for him to use a Scottish phrase I had zero understanding of. So I couldn’t help but react with a laughing emoji.
A couple of corridors later, we arrived at the conference room. Camila opened the double doors like a magician’s assistant on stage, and Amrita Andras was revealed. I’d seen her countless times on TV, but nothing prepared me for seeing her in the flesh. Nearing six-feet, she had dark brown skin, high cheekbones, long thick hair, broad shoulders, slim build and piercing green eyes. Although she must have been approaching her sixties, I could see why she’d caught the attention of Tristan Andras way back when.
Confidently stepping forward with an open hand, and in her softened Indian accent, she said, “Hello Alpha Guard. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Somehow, even through my mech-suit gloves I could feel her warmth when we shook hands.
“It’s an honor, Ms. Andras,” I said, “But we’ve got a busy day ahead. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to make sure we’re all on the same page before we head out to New Jezero.”
“Yes, of course. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail,” she said.
“Very astute, ma’am.”
“Please, call me Amrita.”
“Yes, mam . . . I mean, Amrita.” I don’t know why I fumbled over my words. I was never nervous, and for whatever reason, I wanted to impress her.
Over the next thirty minutes, I clarified the day’s itinerary by going over maps, blueprints and contingency plans. After I finished, she declared, “I can see why you’re called the best bug on the Red Planet.”
“Thank you, but most of that is down to Mr. Green. I’m just the bat who hits the ball.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. It must take a tremendous amount of skill to do what you do. So, thank you for agreeing to be my bodyguard over the next few days.”
“Why don’t you two get a room!” Eric interjected. I managed to ignore him because if anything, the interaction felt more like a mother speaking to her son.
I was eight when my Mom died. I remember it being a wet November evening. We were having dinner and then the doorbell rang. Two soaked police officers walked in. My Dad told me to keep my little sister busy, but I was able to make out the odd word or two. After a while, I couldn’t stand it. I went over and asked what was going on. I still remember them looking down at me. The officers had sadness in their eyes, but my Dad had fear all over his face.
She’d been run over by a guy in a manual-car who didn’t see her crossing the street in some heavy rain. If it were an auto-car, the sensors would have stopped the car and she’d still be alive. I was thankful that on Mars, all vehicles had to be electric and auto-driving by law. The only exceptions were the vehicles in the resource mines.
My Mom was the money maker. So when she was still with us, we lived in a big beautiful suburban house. But after her death, Dad seriously struggled to make ends meet. Over time, the houses and areas we lived in got worse and worse. And after ten years of trying to pick up the pieces, on my eighteenth birthday, I got a funded ticket to Mars. I hated leaving my thirteen year old sister behind, but I felt as though I had to become my own man and make a new life for myself.
“Amrita, Camila, please take a seat,” I requested while motioning toward the rear seats of an open car. We were in the basement garage of The Diamond getting ready to go to New Jezero. We had three cars in our convoy. Amrita, Camila and me in one. With the other two empty, but being controlled by Eric. The plan was to have them switch formation throughout the journey. Similar to the idea behind the three cup scam you see on the streets of most big cities. Deception was the name of the game.
I told Amrita and Camila this was to confuse the media vultures, but in reality, it was to discourage any opportunistic kidnappers from trying their luck. Sitting myself in one of the front seats facing them, I asked, “You both ready?” Amrita looked at Camila briefly and then gave me the go ahead with a nod. On my HUD, I confirmed our route and all three cars set off together toward the exit ramp.
Driving out of the garage and onto the streets of Dome One, it only took thirty seconds before a pack of robo-bikes caught up with us. Robo-bikes were used for all sorts of applications. But for this situation, the remote controlled motorbikes each had a high resolution swivel camera on a robotic arm to capture photos at any angle, at speed. Our cars had smart windows, so they couldn’t see shit inside. And if I really wanted to, I could’ve turned off the exterior display within the car. But Amrita and Camila didn’t seem to mind. Plus, it was entertaining to watch the robo-bikes attempt to get a usable photo. For my sins, I even looked at the social media feeds to see what they were posting. As usual, it was a bunch of misleading headlines with photos that totally misrepresented what was actually happening.
I didn’t have a problem with the robo-bikes following us while we were in Dome One. Especially as there wasn’t much chance of losing them because of the blanket twenty miles per hour speed limit across the city. This was enforced on all vehicles through the Martian government’s artificial intelligence, PLATO.
Programmable Law Automation & Technology Operator. That’s what PLATO stood for. An all encompassing AI to help the Martian government implement laws and operate all infrastructure technology. Sure, they seriously shoehorned the acronym, but naming it after the ancient Greek philosopher came naturally. Or logical even. This was because Martian society was highly influenced by the ideas of Plato. With PLATO itself being the so-called philosopher king.
I say this through gritted teeth because over fifty years ago, Andras Corp were the ones who originally programmed PLATO. However, this was before Tristan Andras bought The Diamond. Plus, for the past five decades, it had been functioning perfectly well with no lapses into psychotic behavior. So, there was no reason not to trust it wouldn’t continue that way. At first, it felt seriously weird to be governed by an AI, but after a while I got used to it. Having said that, I could never imagine it working on Earth, but that’s the beauty of starting a society from scratch.
Although PLATO was essentially in control of our daily lives, it was always accountable to the elected human Guardians. At any time, the Guardians could pull the plug on PLATO and revert to manual systems of operation and governance. And that’s who we were going to visit in New Jezero first. The Council of Guardians for Mars or CGM for short.
Just like you’d see in Arizona, Highway One was still a simple undivided highway. Open to the Martian air, you had one lane going to the pods and one lane going to Dome One. On the other hand, instead of battling against the elements, Highway Two was made up of two above ground tunnels. Each transparent tunnel had three lanes. One going south-east toward New Jezero, which was our direction of travel, and the other going north-west, back toward Dome One. Looking at the two different roads, it was clear where all the money was being spent.
Ensuring all the robo-bikes ended up behind us, we went around the interchange’s traffic circle several times before I approved the car to exit onto the ramp for Highway Two.
Driving down onto the highway, Eric placed all three of our cars in single file on the inside lane at thirty miles per hour. This was the maximum speed limit on Highway Two, which was also enforced by PLATO. However, because people had become accustomed to the speed limit of Dome One, most folks preferred to travel at twenty miles per hour. The mega-rich of Mars were risk takers with their money, but not their lives.
That suited us though because we were able to overtake everyone and keep the robo-bikes at bay. Traveling at the maximum speed limit, there was no chance of them overtaking us, unless we were slowed down by someone in front. So when the timing was right, Eric maneuvered our three cars to span across all three lanes to prevent that scenario from happening. This blocked the entire highway with no chance of the robo-bikes getting past before New Jezero.
That’s when Eric spoke up, “Look lively, Yankee. Check out the semi-truck in the middle lane. About five hundred meters ahead.” On my HUD, Eric displayed the specific video feed, where I could see the rear door of the semi lowering down onto the highway to form a ramp. Rolling down the ramp backwards were four motorbikes with two riders per bike. One driving and one wielding some sort of two-handed gun. I hadn’t seen people on motorbikes since I was a teenager, watching motocross in the backcountry of Vermont. What was even more disturbing, were the fumes coming out of the tailpipes. The very fact that they had tailpipes at all was bad news. This meant they were gas powered and that PLATO had zero control over them.
“Don’t move a muscle,” Eric stated, “I’m launchin’ a micro-drone and switchin’ to calm mode.” In order to keep Amrita and Camila in the dark about what was actually going on outside, Eric seamlessly switched the smart windows to automatically generate a calm version of events outside. All I had to do was remain motionless and they'd be none the wiser.
In case I had to jump into action, Eric still had the micro-drone video feed of outside running on my HUD. With a serious threat ahead, Eric placed the cars in single file on the inside lane with our car at the rear. He then sped them up to the maximum thirty miles an hour.
“Any update on what those guns are?” I texted Eric.
“They look like homemade grenade launchers. In fact, all of their gear looks homemade.”
I reacted with a thumbs up emoji and messaged back, “And their M.O.?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say dissidents from the pods. But whoever they are, it doesn’t matter now. They need to be stopped.”
The motorbikes were also in single file, but in the middle lane and just ten meters away. Suddenly, two of the four motorbikes braked, skidding until they were right behind us. The robo-bikes weren’t far behind that and the people controlling them must have been having a field day because seconds later Camila screamed.
Almost jumping out of her skin, Amrita asked, “What is it, Camila? What’s going on?”
Holding up her tablet, Camila showed Amrita the screen. Who then looked at me with almost as stern a stare as I’d received from the thin man the day before. “Show me what’s going on outside.”
Knowing the game was up, Eric switched the smart windows back to the real exterior display. Just as he did, all four gun-wielding passengers of the motorbikes shot their grenade launchers in short succession of each other.
The first grenade came from the front and unintentionally went straight into the ceiling of the tunnel. Exploding above them, it knocked the rider and passenger off the bike. All three cars in our convoy narrowly missed them by swerving right across the highway to the outside lane. The robo-bikes also managed to dodge them, but they weren’t so lucky with a bus in the middle lane.
The second grenade came from the back and would have been on target if we hadn’t been forced to move to the outside lane. Coordination was clearly not their strong point.
The third grenade came from the remaining motorbike at the front, but soared right over us and landed in the middle of the robo-bikes, dismantling them all. Knowing they’d be missing out on the biggest pay day of their careers, I would have loved to have seen the sour faces of the media vultures controlling them.
From the back again, the fourth grenade was a direct hit. Landing on the hood of the middle car, it flipped up into the air and we drove underneath. It came back to bite them though. The same idiots who shot the grenade, were then wiped out by the car they’d just exploded. It was a shame the robo-bikes weren’t there to capture that moment.
With one motorbike left behind us and one in front, the one behind zipped past at fifty miles per hour. However, they clearly hadn’t practiced at that speed because they rocketed into the back of the other motorbike. The collision sent them all into the sidewall of the tunnel, spreading the riders and passengers across all three lanes.
Leaving the decimation of vehicles behind us, Amrita directed her anger at me with a finger in my face, “Don’t ever deceive me again! If there’s a threat on my life, I want to know about it!”
“Yes, ma’am. It won’t happen again.” I felt I’d lost the privilege of calling her Amrita and she didn’t correct me.
The next ten minutes was cold hard silence. Even Eric didn’t say anything. Usually I was comfortable with that, but seeing the interchange for New Jezero coming up, I had to break the ice. “Camila, have you ever been to NJ?”
“No. But when I was at university, we did a virtual walkthrough.”
“What did you study?”
“Architecture.”
“So, how did you become a PA?”
Amrita interrupted, “She’s the architect of my life. I recruited her at a Cambridge alumni dinner.”
Sensing she was warming up again and having spent my childhood floating around New England, I asked, “Is that Cambridge, Massachusetts or Cambridge, regular-old-England?”
Camila took back the conversation, “We prefer to call it merry-old-England, if you don’t mind. But yes, we met at the original Cambridge.”
“Duly noted,” I said, “You both went to university there?”
Amrita answered this time, “We did. And coincidently, that’s where I met Tristan as well. Incredible how so much of my life has come out of chance meetings in the great halls of Cambridge.”
Before I got a chance to keep the focus on them, Camila came in with a question directed at me, “And how about you? Which university did you go to?”
Trying to be funny and vague, I replied, “I majored in ass whooping at the university of hard knocks, if that counts?”
Swooping in to redirect the conversation, Amrita said, “It certainly does, Alpha Guard. Now, how much further is it to our parking space? Or spot, as you like to say in American English.”
“It's just around the next corner, Amrita.”